


Save It For The Morning After

by Rivela



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fantasizing, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Masturbation, Moral Dilemmas, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivela/pseuds/Rivela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had crossed a line he shouldn’t have, abandoned himself to a dark desire he knew was wrong; however, for once, AJ couldn’t care less about his own prudish condemnations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save It For The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purplematter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplematter/gifts).



> I started writing this more than a week ago, as a follow up/second chapter to Unfortunate, but then Roman and AJ never stopped beating each other in RAW and Smackdown and the story changed into this, which stands well on its own..., I think.
> 
> Thank you so much, purplematter, without you I couldn't have finished it and it means the world to me that you're always giving me your support. Let's hope this is the start of many more fics to come. (^_^)7 Ilysm.

This time he couldn’t quite turn his switch off. Roman Reigns had managed to get under his skin yet another time, an uneasy feeling in his gut firing up. AJ’s heart raced with only hearing his name, and, of course, he heard it a lot lately with the upcoming event featuring them both as the main fight.

What was about Roman that upset him so much, he didn’t know. He shook his head trying to convince himself it was nervousness or adrenaline or some kind of growing grudge against the younger man, who wouldn’t just go down and let him have the championship. Maybe it was due to all of those reasons, but none were good enough to get so worked up outside the ring. 

A sigh escaped him. He missed the sense of normalcy after the shows... Of course, he couldn’t simply go back home and relax like the average person would after a long day of work; still, he had his routine, little things that would ground him and ease the thrill after a match: getting rid of the ring gear for a long and thorough shower, a call home, maybe a prayer before going to bed. Nothing extraordinary or really ritualistic, but they helped to separate himself from his on stage persona, and now they weren’t enough.

No amount of hot or cold water could soothe the atypical excitement after a brawl with Roman. The calls home were turning hollow, full of sharp one liners that he tried to blame on tiredness. And, well, there wasn’t exactly a prayer for those who couldn’t pray at all any more; even more, he was ashamed to try, guilt hounding him because he was well aware that the reason behind his distress was none other than the Samoan and he didn’t want to acknowledge why.

To think so much about someone, feeling his heart savagely thumping in his chest whenever he heard his voice echoing in the hallways of whatever arena or stadium they were in, feeling his face blush when the other fixed his eyes on him, and there was also that time he got hard while thinking of Roman. His heart always skipped a beat when remembering his own thoughts, the images in his mind of the younger man were unlikely for a married southern man with strict Christian morals.

AJ shuddered, unsure whether it was because picturing Roman naked was otherwordly or because it felt plain wrong deep, deep down. No matter which, he did his best to repress it, squish the looming intention to analyze what or why he got so worked up over a guy so much younger than him and, with little modesty, he thought to be beneath his league -experience wise, as Roman’s killer looks were no secret. Roman was a newbie next to him, yet his knees got weak when he heard his intro play or his stomach would turn when he heard his name being thrown around backstage by their coworkers, and that annoying tingle lingering his body after the matches...

AJ bit his lower lip out of frustration.

This last time was too much. They kept at it still after the show was over, the crowd cheering and yelling stuff neither of them paid attention to, and he guessed things got too intense given he couldn’t remember how he made it to the lockers.

Frustration didn’t describe what he felt, but he settled to assume that was what had his nerves on the edge.

He took off his gloves slowly. Everything was starting to get to him and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. How much could he try to pray when he was haunted constantly by his own leud thoughts? How many nights could he go on without sleeping sound with an important event apporaching faster than he’d like? He told himself in a low murmur that he’d have to power through, though he didn’t know how he’d manage to do such thing.

With a deep breath he crouched to get rid of his boots and began to strip. A few minutes in the shower wouldn’t hurt... but he couldn’t calm himself down.

He let the water come down on him, the swishing sound of it running the only noise in the room and the steam caused by the hot water dampened the ambience. AJ frowned. Instead of relaxed, he felt awkward and uncomfortable.

He leaned his head against the tiled wall and closed his eyes focusing on the water going from the back of his neck down to his feet. The feeling of it made him recall the many times he had Roman’s moist hair against his skin and how hot the other’s skin felt. AJ let himself wonder how would it feel to have Roman’s big hands caress all over his body, the heat of the imaginary contact sending a wave of pleasure straight to his groin.

The sensation startled AJ and he opened his eyes looking around like a child caught in the middle of mischief, the only testimony of his transgression his half hard dick.

Another atrocity to pin on Roman, a constantly growing list of horrors he was going through day by day while the other man had little to no idea of his existence outside of everything work related. And, now, not only did he have to worry about his thoughts taking a wrong turn or waking up in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting; he also had to fear popping a boner when showering after a brawl.

The uneasy feeling in his gut became notorious again, emphasized by the itchy lust that tormented him.

He swallowed hard and changed the hot water for cold. It wasn’t the best for his muscles, but the urge to get out of there ensured he’d shower quick and unceremoniously. The last thing he needed was for someone to come in and find him with a hard on, although he was more concerned with his lack of control and moral strength. What had built up in the course of his feud with Roman was growing into something he found easy to give in and, as outraging and revolting it appeared the first few times, it had developed into a confusing pleasure he knew he couldn’t brush aside easily nor was he ready to explore it without ache.

Getting out of the locker room was like leaving behind a big, dark secret. The clean clothes and fresh smell of deodorant and cologne came across to him as a weak attempt to cover up his dirty deeds, like he had some sort of sign above his head or on his back confessing that he had been having fantasies with Roman Reigns.

He needed some alone time, he thought. Some distance from anything WWE related, at least for the night, so he could walk straight again without feeling self concious or ducking his head into his shoulders at every sudden move anxious about his bottled emotions burst in the form of a breakdown or an agressive disposition, whichever happened first. It was ridiculous. He felt ridiculous.

In any case, he was a time bomb waiting to go off. He knew it. And he could almost hear a click in his head when he got shoven aside against the wall by a bigger body.

AJ saw red, and was about to wreck some havoc when he heard Roman’s deep voice.

“Sorry, man.”

A hand on AJ’s shoulder threw whatever sense of self he had left out the window.

He could see Roman talking, but he wasn’t listening. Being honest, all he was paying attention to was the fact that the Samoan was shirtless, something rarely, if ever, seen. He stared shamelessly as the younger man said something about being in a rush and not having seen him. 

AJ didn’t care. All he could concentrate on was that hand on his shoulder, the bare chest in front of him and that delightful desire he thought he had washed away with cold water.

He licked his own lips the moment Roman turned around to keep on walking down the hall. If a face or a look meant anything, his right then would have translated into a savage and lascivious message. His earlier agitation had morphed into an impulse he’d probably regret and feel ashamed of in the morning. But he didn’t care at that point.

He moved quickly, driven by a sexual craving he wouldn’t have thought possible before, his worked respiration the only nagging cue of something bothering him and he was too far gone to care about Luke and Karl waiting or looking for him.

Going the same way Roman had, he exited the building and didn’t take long to hail a cab to the hotel.

He must have looked like a fidgety mess to the driver, because he caught him glancing back through the mirror several times, so AJ pretended to be busy looking out the window not realizing that he was rubbing his legs against each other and biting his lower lip often.  
He paid his fare with a slight flush on his face and almost darted into the lobby. He was having a hard time controlling himself, holding back from just pulling down his clothes and touching himself while picturing Roman’s hands all over his body.

He avoided the mirror wall in the elevator, AJ didn’t want to see his own reflection, afraid of disliking the image cast back and snapping out of his horny momentum. Although he would have needed more than that to stop at that point, his mind already working which scenarios he was going to jerk off to: him on his knees looking up to Roman’s smug face whilst sucking him off; him bent over against a wall with Roman ramming into him and saying the filthiest things; him digging his nails on Roman’s arms and back as he was spread open and receiving him full force... 

AJ just dropped his bag on the floor when the door closed behind him. 

He didn’t recall being that lustful in his life and, all of the sudden, he felt lost. He didn’t know how to proceed, as if getting off had a special science to it.

His cock throbbed inside his clothes, a sign that perhaps it wasn’t the best time to stop to ponder, so he stroked himself through the fabric a few times with the palm of his hand. 

The rustle of his zipper along with his jeans and underwear being pulled down made him gasp. He was about to do something forbidden, something he knew would hook him in a dangerous compulsion, and his hands moved all the same, slow and carefully, grasping his hard shaft.

With his eyes closed, he sat on the edge of the bed picking which of all his fantasies he’d play out.

It was hard to just pick one, he found. He thought of them all at the same time, unable to center his attention on anything in particular.

AJ stopped and looked at the ceiling, contemplating everything he fancied of the other man: those big hands, the broad shoulders, his thick muscles... and his eyes. There was something about them, when Roman was in deep into provoking and showing who was the guy, stirring AJ into such a state. He understood then that that was what had started it all: Roman’s smugness and aggravating words along with those gazes that could as well kill.

“Make your move, bitch.” Roman’s velvet voice reverberated in his head. He had heard him loud and clear despite the multitude’s background noise, and, oh, he was about to.

He arched his back with a firm squeeze to his erection. He wanted to be in front of Roman, for him to repeat those same words, showing him outcome of what he had said and, of course, having the Samoan call him bitch again among many other things.

He dragged his hand along his cock unhurriedly; as much as he wanted to masturbate hard and fast, he also wanted it to last and enjoy every second of it.

The idea of Roman talking down to him, AJ snuggled between Roman’s legs sucking and jerking him off sent a bolt of ecstasy through his body.

Roman, with his intriguing and over confident face, looking down at him and pulling his hair hard, AJ moaning with his mouth full of dick just to be pushed down to choke on it a bit. How much he’d enjoy that, to brace himself onto strong legs having his mouth fucked and being told how good it felt to use him like that.

He panted when he recognized that fantasizing about a mere blow job with some deep throating wasn’t going to cut it for him and, a closet masochist when it came to Roman, he wouldn’t have a problem with begging to being fucked raw and hard. A gush of pleasure made his legs tremble.

He imagined Roman’s hands sweeping from the back of AJ’s neck to his back and stopping before his ass, teasing and playing with him, maybe obliging AJ to plead for him to hurry and put him on all fours to be taken viciously. 

If Roman’s fingers and arms burnt him with the slighest contact when wrestling, AJ assumed being under such a beautiful man, his cock shoved deep inside him until they both came would be smoldering to say the least and, bearing that in mind, the build up of his orgasm was imminent.

To hell with making it last when he was so close. His hand moved faster, the lack of lubrication adding to the friction gave place to a new sensation, and soon he was curling his toes inside his shoes with a groan.

He fell backwards on the bed, comforted for the moment, and held out his cum covered hand. Something had been flicked on, something twisted and lewd that wasn’t going to go away soon, and AJ, bewildered, had his pulse speeding at the thought of having a dirty little secret to hide from the world.

He had crossed a line he shouldn’t have, abandoned himself to a dark desire he knew was wrong; however, for once, AJ couldn’t care less about his own prudish condemnations. He could always shame himself the morning after.


End file.
